


Golden Days

by aphoenixinwriting



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:48:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphoenixinwriting/pseuds/aphoenixinwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey are grandpas and happily married. Ian gets sick and Mickey remembers their life together from the past 53 years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Days

Ian Gallagher finished tucking in his great-granddaughter. Olivia spent the night. She was sleeping in her grandpa Yvegeny's old bedroom. She spent the weekend with her grandfathers and had worn them both out.

Ian put away the book he read to her, took off his glasses, and grabbed his cane. The little girl was out like a light. Ian knelt to kiss her on the forehead. She had Mickey's coloring: the same jet black hair, bright eyes, and pale Milkovich skin. Ian couldn't help but be in love with her.

Mickey was still up reading. Ian was doubled over his cane and walking slower than usual. Mickey got up to pull the covers back on Ian's side of the bed. He helped Ian out of his slippers and into bed.

Ian Gallagher had shrunk in his old age. He was no longer the tall, strapping, young man that Mickey had fallen in love with all those years ago, but he still had the boyish green eyes that even at seventy-three made Mickey's knees knock and heart thud.

"We're old," Ian laughed. His laugh turned into a cough. Mickey handed him a glass of water. Ian smiled. His smile was something that hadn't changed at all. Mickey's heart skipped a beat, or it could have been his pacemaker. He wasn't sure. He took the water and put it next to Ian's spot on the bed.

"Is Olivia out?" Mickey asked. His voice had gotten rough from smoking for forty years. He still had the deep Chicago accent and edge in his voice that Ian loved. Mickey's jet black hair was beginning to gray, but he still had a full head of hair.

"Like a light. We should take her for ice cream tomorrow," said Ian yawning. He slid deeper into the bed, but Mickey held out his usual pills for him to take. Ian shook his head. "Not tonight."

"Don't make me fucking force you," Mickey said.

Ian took the pills and slid back into bed. Mickey slid in beside him and put his arm under Ian's neck to pull him in close. They couldn't spoon like they used to when they were younger and sex was certainly off the table. They both would have laughed at the notion of even trying.

"Yev told me that Jason's back with Stefan," said Ian. His voice had thickened with old age, but he sounded much like his younger self. His red hair had gone blond with age and was quickly lightening into white.

Mickey's brows furrowed. His twenty-six year old grandson had been in an abusive relationship for three years and was back with him. Mickey wasn't happy to hear that. He had threatened Stefan on multiple occasions and had gone as far as showing up at his house with a gun and posse ready to kill him. That was when Jason and Stefan split the first time.

"That boy needs some fucking sense," Mickey said. Ian coughed and Mickey squeezed him a little tighter. "You okay?"

"I'm tired, Mickey."

Ian was up off and on all night. He barely slept more than a couple of hours. Mickey was up with him, he had gotten used to this over the years. If it wasn't a sick child or one of Ian's manic episodes it was something else. It was always something. Mickey kneeled over Ian whose head was in the toilet.

"I feel terrible," Ian said. He vomited into the commode again before he choked out a sob.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," Mickey said. He got Ian up and dressed him. Ian had pissed himself when he was throwing up. He squeaked out a sob as Mickey cleaned him up. "Don't cry, now."

"I don't need a hospital," Ian insisted. He always said that.

"Yeah, okay, Tough Guy," Mickey said as he helped Ian put on his pants. He was reminded of seventeen-year-old Ian with his tattoo and his six pack abs. Mickey felt a pang in his chest and a smile manifested on his face.

"At least wake Olivia," Ian said.

Mickey had purchased a car when he and Ian had saved up enough money. It was old and barely ran anymore, but Mickey kept it around. He carried a sleeping Olivia to the car and laid her in the back seat. He went back in the house for Ian. He held Ian's hand as Ian walked slowly with his cane.

Ian stopped and threw up in the bushes. Mickey rubbed his back as he guided him to the car. It was dark out and he didn't want to fall and break a bone so they walked slowly. The car was running and heating up. Mickey put Ian in the passenger's seat and went back to open the trunk of the car. He took out two blankets. It was Ian's idea to keep blankets in the trunk of the car in case of emergencies in the winter time.

Mickey covered up Olivia and then threw a blanket over Ian. He pecked Ian on the cheek and got behind the wheel. Ian asked for Mickey's hand to hold on the drive. Mickey smiled at the pale gold band on Ian's finger and looked at his matching one.

_Mickey stood in front of the glass case at the jewelry store. He was twenty-two and ready to start his life with Ian. He had been back and forth on how and when to ask Ian to marry him, but he was dead set on it even if it was going to be the most unromantic proposal in history._

_Earlier that week he had gotten Fiona's blessing. She raised Ian, and he made sure she was the one who blessed the marriage. He didn't give a shit what Frank Gallagher thought. He had overdosed and passed away shortly after._

_Mickey had no plan in mind, just five hundred bucks and a beautiful pale gold band he had engraved with "Together". The proposal wasn't romantic, but with Mickey nothing ever was. He had gotten on one knee and asked Ian in the Alibi to marry the fuck out him. Ian had happily agreed._

The hospital staff was nice enough to bring a wheelchair out for Ian. Mickey carried Olivia. She was out. She was like Ian, when she slept she was dead to the world. He put her down in the waiting room. He sat next to her and watched her sleep for a bit. She had somehow managed to curl up beside him and put her head on his knee.

It was a little past midnight when Mickey finally heard something. He had dozed off as elderly men sometimes do. He was tapped awake by a male nurse. Mickey sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He tried to stand, but was unable due to the tiny little girl on his lap.

"How's Ian?"

"We're admitting him. We're going to run some tests on him to see if we can find the problem. Why don't you go home and get some sleep and come back tomorrow?"

"No. I haven't left Ian in fifty-three years. I was there for the highs and I was there for the lows. I ain't fucking going anywhere. I'm staying right here. Now, be a good boy and fetch a pillow for my baby girl."

Mickey carried Olivia to Ian's room when they got him into one. It was a private room with a couch. Mickey put Olivia in the big chair beside Ian's bed with a pillow and a blanket and he slept on the couch. The male nurse brought him a pillow and blanket too.

In the morning, Ian was awake and eating breakfast, but he couldn't get out of the bed until the nurses came to get him out of bed. He was being prepped for tests that morning. Olivia was asking a million questions and getting in the way.

"Papaw, why are we in the hospital?" Olivia asked Mickey. He ignored her for a second to stop them from taking Ian without Mickey getting the chance to kiss him. Mickey leaned over to kiss Ian right on the mouth. Ian smiled for a moment before the nurses took him away.

"We're here because Papaw Ian is sick," Mickey said pulling the little girl into his lap. She laid her head on his shoulder.

"Oh. Will he get better?"

"I hope so, Livie, I hope so."

Mickey spent the morning on the phone with Yevgeny and Ian's brothers Carl and Liam, who were the only other surviving members of Ian's immediate family. Fiona, Lip, and Debbie had passed away years ago. It was breast cancer that claimed Debbie when she was fifty. Lip suffered a heart attack, and Fiona had passed peacefully in her sleep. She went to sleep one night and never woke up.

Mickey's grandson Jason showed up without his boyfriend, something Mickey was grateful for. Jason was Olivia's uncle. Her mother showed up an hour later and began brushing her hair.

"Is dad coming?" Jason asked.

"He said he was," Mickey said. He waited. He was nervous.

"Don't be nervous, Grandpa. It's going to be okay. Ian's just in testing," said Jason.

"Is Papaw Ian going to die?" Olivia asked. She was playing with the doll her mother had brought for her. Mickey smiled at her. She was his pride and joy. Mickey had to sit down. His legs weren't as strong as they used to be. He had a head ache and he just wanted Ian to be okay.

It seemed like that had been his wish since he was nineteen years old and first learned of Ian's bipolar disorder. Since that horrible day, all Mickey wanted was for Ian—his Ian—to be okay. He shut his eyes and remembered Ian coming into his room with a tire iron, he was all red hair and freckles back then and cute as hell.

"Tell us about how you fell in love with Ian, Grandpa," said Cassie, Jason's sister.

"You've heard this story," Mickey said. He hated telling stories. That was always something Ian liked to do. He kept a scrapbook of all his and Mickey's memories: their wedding, Yev's birthdays, Yev's wedding, Cassie's birth, Jason's birth. The birth of Cassie's twin sons: Connor and Philip. The birth of Olivia. It was all there. Their life together.

It was several hours before Ian was brought back to his room. He looked tired. Mickey sat on the side of Ian's bed and stroked his head. Ian looked at him the way they always looked at each other, lovingly. Mickey's heart swelled.

"I'm tired," Ian said, "and thirsty."

"Can we get Ian some water?" Mickey asked a nurse. When she ignored him Mickey got angry. He stormed out of the room and chased after nurses demanding someone get his husband some water. Mickey cursed at seven different people until someone brought Ian a cup with very little water.

"He's too hydrated. We need to monitor his liquids. He can have one glass every eight hours," said a nurse. Mickey wanted to shove his tablet up his ass, but Jason had stopped him from lashing out. "Also, it would be best if you got off the bed. Ian needs to rest."

"Don't fucking tell me what to do, I might be old but I'll still kick your ass."

"Grandpa," said Jason laughing.

"I'm staying right here," Mickey said. He continued to stroke Ian's hair and kissed him on the lips until he fell asleep.

Cassie had to leave to pick up Connor and Philip from school. Jason stayed. He had always been Ian's favorite, and everyone knew it, whereas Mickey favored Cassie. She had been his princess growing up and he saw most of that in little Olivia, who had gone with her mother.

"I can't believe dad's not here," Jason said.

"How's work?" Ian asked when he woke up just in time for supper.

"I was fired," Jason said.

"What the fuck did you do?" Mickey asked smacking Jason in the back of the head.

"I fucked my boss," Jason said.

"Smack him again," Ian said.

Mickey obliged.

"I'm in love with him," Jason admitted.

"I thought you were back with Stefan?"

"Oh God no, I just told dad that so he wouldn't find out that I fucked my boss then was fired for it."

Mickey bought him and Jason dinner so they could eat it with Ian. Ian didn't feel much like eating. He wanted to listen to Jason talk about how deeply in love he was with his former boss. Mickey could see the happiness on Ian's tired face. He leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Tell me you love me," Ian asked.

"Fuck off," Mickey said with a smile. He rarely said those three little words. He had a problem with being forced to explain his feelings. He was more comfortable showing his feelings. Since he came out all them years ago he had never stopped _showing_ Ian he loved him.

"Just this once," Ian said.

"I've said it before," Mickey said.

"Please," Ian said.

Jason had tears in his eyes. He looked at his grandpa. Mickey was looking at Ian. He took his hand and held it tight. Ian had jagged and swollen knuckles from arthritis, but they were still beautiful to Mickey. "I fucking love you. With all my heart," Mickey said.

Jason had burst into tears. He was sensitive like Ian. Mickey loved that about him. He found the little things in life to be filled with beauty, but he did get hurt easily. Mickey held Ian's hand long into the late evening when Jason conked out on the couch. Mickey had thrown a blanket over him.

"You should go home," said Ian.

"I ain't leaving you," Mickey said.

"Sleep in a real bad. Damn it, Mick, you're so stubborn. You're going to hurt your back on that couch."

"Fuck you," Mickey whispered with a smile. Ian smiled back and pressed his forehead against Mickey's. "I will be back first thing in the morning."

"I'll be here."

"You fucking better," Mickey said.

Mickey drove Jason's car home. He left his car and the keys with Ian in case Jason woke up and wanted to leave. Out of habit Mickey turned down the corner of the bed for Ian then frowned. Their big bed hadn't been so empty in years. Ian's spot has always been occupied.

Mickey couldn't sleep without Ian's warmth against him. He tried. He tossed and turned. It was the first time they had been apart in their entire marriage. Mickey got up and dialed the number to Ian's hospital room. Ian answered weakly.

"I can't sleep," Mickey said.

"It's two am," Ian said. He coughed. "I was given more water. I'm still thirsty."

"I need to come down there and kick some ass."

"You'll throw your hip out. I miss you."

A tear rolled down Mickey's face. He fought back the sniffle. He wasn't going to let Ian hear him cry. "I miss you, Tough Guy."

"I love you."

Tears streamed down Mickey's face. He hung up and grabbed his keys. _Fuck sleeping._ Mickey was out the door faster than he had moved in years. He couldn't leave Ian's side. Not now. Jason was still asleep when Mickey got there. Ian was wide awake. He didn't sleep much. He hadn't had a manic episode in a while, but he still didn't really sleep.

"Fuck sleeping, my heart is here."

"You're a stubborn ass," Ian said with a weak smile.

"I'm your stubborn ass," Mickey said.

"He looks like you," Ian said looking at Jason's sleeping form.

"The spitting image," Mickey said, "Only taller."

"If I die," Ian started.

"Don't you fucking dare," Mickey said.

"If, Mickey, if I die, will you be okay?" Ian asked.

"No. No I won't be fucking okay," Mickey answered. The tears he was fighting back were stinging his eyes. Mickey was petting Ian's hair and kissing his cheek.

This was the routine for a week. Mickey would go home and try to get some sleep, and he always came back. Ian's condition worsened and the doctors said he would need to stay another week. Mickey's worry grew.

"He's getting worse, Dad," said Yev in the cafeteria. He had forced Mickey to come down to eat with the family. Carl and Liam had flown in from out of town. Liam brought the family to see Ian, but since Ian was moved downstairs to the ICU, the nieces and nephews couldn't go in to see him.

"He's not going to make it, Mickey," said Carl.

"He might," said Mickey. _They don't know Ian like I do._

"Grandpa," said Cassie, "It's almost impossible."

"Don't ever fucking tell me what's impossible. I know my Ian," Mickey's voice caught in his throat. Jason came jogging into the cafeteria. He was out of breath. Mickey's heart dropped into his feet.

"They told me to come get you."

Mickey was the first one up. He was the first one in the elevator, and he was the first one by Ian's side. Ian was rambling. The things he was saying made no sense. He was recalling memories from his teenage years that only Mickey understood and then it was gibberish. He was hollering for Lip to change Liam and telling Frank to get the fuck out.

Then it was Mickey he was screaming at. He begged to know why Mickey was marrying some whore he knocked up. Mickey had lost it. This wasn't his Ian. This wasn't right. Mickey's heart was breaking. He took Cassie's hand.

Ian took a turn for the worst. The gibberish stopped. Ian stopped moving all together. He was alive, but he was unresponsive. He was hooked up to too many machines for Mickey's taste. The doctors were explaining that this was a time for good-byes. They asked for permission to take Ian off life support and let him die. Mickey was hesitant. He hated seeing his Ian unresponsive. He hated seeing him like this.

"Give me a minute," Mickey asked everyone. Everyone including the doctors stepped out. Mickey took a deep breath and let the tears out finally. "Fuck you. Okay, just fuck you. I fucking love you too much to let you go like this. You're my heart. You're my entire fucking world and you're leaving me. I can't stand it. I'm not okay and this isn't okay, and it's not going to be okay. I've loved you since broke into my room to get that goddamn gun back, and I will love you until my breath, but fuck if I won't miss you. I will miss the sunshine in your hair and the dimple in your fucking cheeks. I will miss the annoying way you document every aspect of our lives. I will miss every fucking thing about you."

And Mickey let out the deepest sob he ever had in his life as his and Ian's family came back in to say their good-byes. Mickey felt a hand on his shoulder. He knew it wasn't, but he pretended it was Ian. He pretended it was the man he loved his whole life.

Mickey saw the line decrease to nothing as Ian's life left his body. Mickey saw something then that made his world stop. He saw Ian as he remembered him best: Young and happy, with a smug smile, always teasing him. That Ian was smiling at him. He held up his hand, blew Mickey a kiss and faded.

Mickey stood in front of Ian's headstone and stared at it. He had come here every day since Ian had been buried to talk to him and kiss him and tell him how much he still loved him. It had been a year since Ian's death and Mickey never missed a date. Never missed the opportunity to show him how much he loved him. He sat down this time, and traced the letters on the headstone.

"Fuck you, Tough Guy. I miss you."

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the death of my mother. My parents were married 55 years.


End file.
